Quivering
by Cinderblock Laser
Summary: What happens when, in the midst of all of this, The Dream dies?


Authors Notes: This is my first real stab at FanFic. I just had to write this idea down to get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy it. If you're into Marvel right now, you know that the entire universe is in a state of upheaval right now. This is my take on how the Civil War might end. Love it, Hate it, but please review; if I'm bad, I gotta know so I can get better.

He could scream as much as he pleased. He could yell and wave his fists around. He could launch a few arrows into the stratosphere, but it wouldn't change the facts.

Captain America was dead.

Clint Barton spent most of his adult life quarrelling with the guy. Over Avengers membership, ideals, beliefs, even sports. Clint and Steve were notorious for arguing over nearly everything. At the end of the day, however, Clint knew he and Steve were kindred: on a team of aliens, immortals, robots, and gods, they were just two guys in gaudy costumes trying to do what they knew was right.

After the whole mess with Wanda, Clint stayed below the radar; ironically he was thinking of going to Tony when he was finally ready. He'd known Iron Man for years and thought, erroneously in hindsight, that if he could trust anyone to help him with his 'resurrection' pains, it was Tony.

"...get the medics!..."

"...who fired that damn blast?..."

"...didn't see. So much fighting..."

"...not breathing...", their voices were like echoes in a tunnel, through the high altitude and the pouring rain. What they were saying didn't matter anyway.

"...there's no way...no way in hell..."

"...over 500 goddamn troops and no medics?..."

"...he's...oh lord..."

"...can't find a pulse..."

"...our father who art in heaven..."

"...prayer ain't gonna help, bub..."

"GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU DISGUSTING TRAITORS!", ahhh Hercules; a god amongst men who could always be counted on to be heard above the rabble.

"...calm down, Herc..."

"...where's Samson and Newell? They could help..."

"...Samson's unconscious..."

"...still no heartbeat..."

"...I, uh, threw Stingray through a building..."

"...he's bleeding so...much..."

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF HIM!", Hercules, breaking past She-Hulk and Thing, moved towards Tony, who was kneeling over the fallen Captain. Even through his toy suit, from here, I could see his hands shaking.

"Hercules, stop. Y-you're not helping the situation", the crack in Stark's voice was genuine, the bastard. One of those shaking hands touched the side of his helmet, "SHIELD, we need medical personel, ASAP!"

Sam Wilson, pulling his Falcon mask off, moved through the hole Hercules had made in the pro-reg lines towards his dead friend. Clint knew Sam, and he felt bad for anyone who stood between him and Captain America, "You think **SHIELD**'s gonna help? One of their boys probably fired that shot!"

Jennifer stepped up, "Sam, c'mon, they'd n-n-never...", and she choked on the words. The resolve she'd taken so long to build both as an attorney and as She-Hulk wavered as she looked at Cap, his blue eyes open. Open and gazing up, right at the clouds.

Gazing up right at me. They were screaming at me, 'Help me Clint! You're the only one I can rely on right now!'

What help could I be? A second late on the scene, and months too late to do anything for the only man on this planet I would ever call a brother.

"Those bastards! They downed the Cap!"

"Calm down! He might not be..."

"Shove it, Grimm! You and I both know..."

"Get outta my face, runt!"

'Clint...' the rain ran down my cheeks. I was **not** crying,

'Clint...help...'

Tony felt the pressure of the arrow nearly a millisecond before it tipped him over onto his rear, the rain making unnatural hollow noises against his armor and the discarded shield next to him in the wet, cold mud. A trio of explosions went off around him, and the air came alive with the hollow piercing howl of arrows hitting the ground near him.

All the heroes, in dazed amazement, looked up, and up. There was a figure. A figure in purple staring down at them. The bow he held had nearly a dozen arrows laying across it, each with a wicked looking tip on it. Jennifer whispered something, like a prayer to a dying god,

"Hawkeye..."

Clint, however did not whisper. He voice was loud and clear, even through the driving rain, even from nine stories up, "Get away from him. **NOW**."

Tony looked to Peter, who was helping him to his feet. Dr. Pym and Reed came over, standing behind the Armored Avenger. Reed looked to Thing, telling him to ready himself. Pym was holding his wife's hand. Janet, for her part, looked up at the Avenging Archer, white as a ghost. Peter twitched slightly, the robotic appendages on his back moving slightly towards Hawkeye.

"No", Tony said. Never turning from the Cap or Hawkeye, Iron Man moved backwards, his team with him. Hercules and Sam, followed by other heroes who stood by Captain America through this entire idiotic war, moved up around him.

"We've got to get him to a Hospital-" Pym started.

"Won't...it wouldn't...help," Jennifer said. She'd shrunk a few inches; it was probably hard staying as She-Hulk at this point.

"Let them...just...just let them," Tony was trying to be the leader. He was trying to make sense of all of this. Only moths ago, he'd been joking with Steve about some new show they'd both watched. Four minutes ago, he'd been doing his best to detain Captain America without injuring him. He knew that he could just talk to Cap...talk some sense into him...then things could be the way they were. Things could be good again.

Things would never be good again. He'd been looking into Cap's eyes when the blast hit. He saw steely resolve and godly determination slowly fade away as the shield fell from limp fingers. Tony blinked once. Then twice. Then closed his eyes completely. Those blue eyes were now ghosts, haunting the inside of his eyelids; the face of America was burned into his memory. He could feel it.

Sam lifted Steve's head ever so gently. He'd seen Captian America fight off crazed robots and killer aliens, and now he was treating him like he was made of stained glass and just seconds from breaking. The irony was lost on him as he checked, desperatly, for a pulse.

Clint, dragging an arrow along the side of the building to slow his decent, landed next to the heroes assembled around America. He walked through them, up to Sam, who still had his fingers on Steve's neck, and put his hand on his shoulder. His fingers lingered for what must have been an eternity. There was rain on Sam's face, and a lot on his eyes. Hawkeye slowly and carefully lifted Captain America's body. He was not nearly as heavy and Clint thought he should be. Hercules, containing his rage for the moment, helped Sam to his feet as Sam held the discarded shield under his arm.

Clint stood there for a moment as the heroes opened a gap in the circle they'd made. He looked to Pym and Stark and Reed and Parker. Parker had his mask off, and looked dumbfounded. Janet and Jennifer wouldn't meet his gaze.

"...You win."

When he finally spoke, Jennifer felt like she'd been slapped. Tony looked over the faces of Sam and Herc and Danny and all the other heroes against the registration; they looked...dead. Like the only thing that kept them going had been cut out. Clint spoke again,

"You win. Tell your SHIELD cronies that we give up," Clint looked at all the heroes standing next to him, who neither done nor said anything, "We'll register, we'll work for the government, we'll do as we are told...that's it. We...give up,"

Ben Grimm had never really been heartbroken. He'd been angry when he found out about Johnny and Alicia, or lonely on those late nights when he could hear Sue and Reed through his wall. He had always considered himself above such 'sappy' feelings like heartache. But as he looked at Falcon and Hawkeye and the others...he'd played cards with these guys, trusted them to keep him alive! But now...they were just standing there, like automatons waiting for a task. Ben felt something in his throat; musta just been vomit...

"We'll report to the Helicarrier tomorrow..." Clint turned, "...but right now, we are burying our friend,"

Jennifer looked at Tony. She envied him his armor and its uncaring visage. Damn helmet. He just said flatly, "Understood," before turning to walk away, followed by Pym, Reed, and Peter. Janet remained right where she was, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. Jen moved quickly towards the retreating heroes, hoping to follow them, "Wait!"

"NO!" Hercules said, brandishing his fist at the approaching woman, "You go back to your government lapdogs, traitorous harlot! Stay away from us! And tell them, that when I find out who has done this to Steve Rogers..." his eyes darkened before he turned to walk away, "No government...no force in the cosmos will save him..."

"Wait, no!" Jennifer said, still trying to move forward, "I...I just want to bury my friend!"

"We lost that right," Janet said, her eyes still unfocused, "We...we lost..." and she quickly turned to follow her husband and the others.

Her words wouldn't leave the air, 'We...we lost'. The woman known as She-Hulk looked to the ground. There was a tattered bit of blue fabric, orbited by blood droplets, lying where the Champion of Democracy once was. It shouldn't have been like this. They were the good guys. HE was a good guy; a hero...

The rain got harder.


End file.
